THE BLACKBIRD
[Before disappearing among the flower-pots.] Well, rather!

SCENE THIRD

THE PHEASANT-HEN, CHANTECLER.

CHANTECLER
[Who has reached the PHEASANT-HEN’S side.] Out so early?

THE PHEASANT-HEN
To see the daybreak.

CHANTECLER
[With repressed emotion.] Ah—?

THE PHEASANT-HEN
[Teasingly.] What troubles you?

CHANTECLER
I have had a wretched night.

THE PHEASANT-HEN
So sorry! [A pause.]

CHANTECLER
Are you going to the Guinea-hen’s?

THE PHEASANT-HEN
I stayed over solely for that purpose.

CHANTECLER
Ah, yes, I know. [A pause.] I dislike her extremely.

THE PHEASANT-HEN
Come to her party.

CHANTECLER
No.

THE PHEASANT-HEN
As you please.  Then we may as well say good-bye.

CHANTECLER
No.

THE PHEASANT-HEN
Come to the Guinea-hen’s.  We shall have a chance to see something of
each other there.

CHANTECLER
No.

THE PHEASANT-HEN
You are determined not to come?

CHANTECLER
I am coming—­but I hate it.

THE PHEASANT-HEN
Why?

CHANTECLER
It is weak.

THE PHEASANT-HEN
No, no!  That is no great sign of weakness!

CHANTECLER
Ah—?

THE PHEASANT-HEN [Softly, coming closer to him.] What would be showing a sweet, delightful, and fully masculine weakness—­

CHANTECLER
[In alarm at her approach.] What?

THE PHEASANT-HEN
Would be to tell me your secret.  Oh, just a wee bit!

CHANTECLER
[With a start.] The secret of my song?

THE PHEASANT-HEN
Yes.

CHANTECLER
Golden Hen, my secret—­

THE PHEASANT-HEN [Coaxingly.] Often from the edge of the woods I hear you in the first golden glimmer of day—­

CHANTECLER
[Flattered.] My song has reached your shapely little ear?

THE PHEASANT-HEN
It has!

CHANTECLER
[Abruptly, moving away from her.] My secret—­Never!

THE PHEASANT-HEN
You are not very gallant!

CHANTECLER
No—­I am full of conflict and misery.

THE PHEASANT-HEN
[Languidly reciting.] The Cock and the Pheasant-hen a Fable—­

CHANTECLER
[Half aloud.] A Cock loved a Pheasant-hen—­

THE PHEASANT-HEN
And would not tell her anything—­

CHANTECLER
Moral—­

THE PHEASANT-HEN
It was horrid of him!

CHANTECLER [Pressing close to her.] Moral:  Your dress has the fascinating rustle of silk!

THE PHEASANT-HEN
Moral:  I dislike familiarity! [Withdrawing from him.] Go home to your
Hen of the plebeian petticoat!